


Broken morning, broken nights, and broken days in-between

by flawedfemalecharacter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, The Marauders - Freeform, also a fair amount of pining you've been warned, also also warning for internalized homophobia i'm sorry, just idiot boys being idiots, no porn nor no plot really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 01:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11071614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedfemalecharacter/pseuds/flawedfemalecharacter
Summary: “James, can you please shut the fuck up and just get the popcorn or whatever,” he says, which he thinks is pretty generous considering that please is quite high up there on the list of words he fucking hates.“Dude,” James is like, “I, like, I just don’t think you understand how big of a deal this is for me. Like, I don’t know if you remember because I was pretty discrete about it and that, but I actually had a huge crush on Evans for, like, ages. You remember? Like, I think I showed you that drawing I did of our kids?”Or:James and Lily rekindle. Sirius doesn't care because he's not lame like that (except he totally is). Remus is mia and Peter is the bearer of bad non-advice.





	Broken morning, broken nights, and broken days in-between

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Auroras 'Conqueror'. Hopefully she would approve.  
> This contains quite a bit of internalized homophobia and also a frankly excessive amount of swearing. That's just boys being lads, though.

 

It’s like ten past ten when James barges into Sirius’ room, looking all happy and stuff, which is _probably_ bad news, because, like. They have a _very_ strict no-smiling, no-talking, no-doing-much-of-anything-before-noon-really policy in their flat, and contrary to popular belief it _was_ James who imposed it and he’s like scarily serious about it. Sirius has the battle wounds to show for it. Anyways, James is standing there grinning like a madman about to break into an elaborate song-and-dance routine, and Sirius fucking _begs_ to God that he won’t because it would be _horrific_ , and like, honestly, _he’s_ the talent in their friendship. _Everyone_ knows that. He pulls his duvet cover up over his head and hopes that James will take the fucking hint for _once_ in his fucking life, but of _course_ he doesn’t, and like. Sirius could scream. Or break into his _own_ elaborate song-and-dance routine which would be _miles_ better than James’ and all about how much he just wants to sleep and could James please fuck the fuck off.

“Dude, you _need_ to hear this,” James is like, worming his way into Sirius’ bed like the snake he is. Sirius is pretty sure he _doesn’t_ ‘need to hear this’ but conveying that would take like actual effort and energy that he can’t spare.

“I met Lily Evans today! At the grocery store! She was buying eggs!” And Sirius wonders, briefly, why James was awake, much less at the _grocery store_ , before ten in the morning, but, honestly. Whatever, really.

“You remember Lily Evans, right?” James asks when he doesn’t get the reaction he was going for, which is to say any reaction at all.

Sirius _does_ remember Lily Evans because her stupid hair was all James could go on about for like two full years when they were still back in school, and in some amazing feat it’s still as fucking annoying years later. He can’t believe he’s been awaken for this.

“Yeah, I do. Also, like, I don’t care, so? Maybe go out?”

Then James mutters something about how he’s impossible and unable to share other people’s joy and whatnot, which, y’know, cool, because at least he's left alone after that.

 

 

 

Sirius is frankly _amazed_ that James is still fucking hung up about it days later, because, historically, he has the attention span of a three-year-old on uppers. Then again, Lily Evans has always been the exception that confirms the rule, so she’s probably still hot or whatever. And, like, Sirius is not _bitter_ or anything, he’s just _saying_ that it’s a bit suspicious that James can be hyper focused on an eight over several years when he can’t even fucking stay _awake_ during the movies Sirius tries to show him, is all. But then he tries to tell this to Peter, who has the audacity to fucking _laugh_ at him as if Sirius would even go to him with his problems if James wasn’t busy being a fucking mess and Remus hadn’t been MIA for _days_ , and then says something like ‘yeah, but the difference is that James is in love with Lily and you’re in love with James, so, like, y’know _’._ Which, like, Sirius isn’t even going to _begin_ opening that can of worms today. Or any day. Or _ever_. Then he walks out and Peter is still laughing and he goes to do some sick exercises at the 24-hour gym.

 

 

 

 

Sirius has spent like actual money on renting a movie from Amazon because Netflix is a fucking travesty and his laptop has enough viruses on it as it _is_ , and he’s trying to convey this to James, who is just spiralling out of control like one of those fucking fidget spinners or whatever. And, like, it’s unbearable to hear him wax on about Lily literally anytime else – if he has to listen to another bad metaphor about her smile he might just blow his fucking brains out – but this is _movie night_. So, sure, James is _unbelievably_ bad at watching movies or shows or YouTube-videos, and it’s _annoying_ , but movie night is still, like, a Thursday _tradition_. Like, Sirius has cancelled really fucking hot dates on those grounds, so he doesn’t think, really, that it’s too much to ask for that James shuts the fuck up.

“James, can you _please_ shut the fuck up and just get the popcorn or whatever,” he says, which he thinks is pretty generous considering that please is quite high up there on the list of words he fucking _hates_.

“Dude,” James is like, “I, like, I just don’t think you understand how big of a deal this is for me. Like, I don’t know if you remember because I was _pretty_ discrete about it and that, but I actually had a huge crush on Evans for, like, _ages_. You remember? Like, I think I showed you that drawing I did of our kids?”

And sure. Movie night is sacred, but James has _ruined_ it with whatever the fuck kind of premature midlife crisis he has found himself in the midst of and Sirius, frankly, _won’t_ play armchair psychiatrist anymore, and also, like. He really wants to punch something and he’s currently leaning towards James’ nose, which would _probably_ be unfortunate, maybe.

“Mate, if you’re just going to go on and on and _on_ about this chick, why don’t you just go over to hers or something? Like, talk about this with someone who is stupid enough to actually _care_?”

And, yeah, honestly he _is_ expecting James to be all like ‘nah dude, it’s _movie night_ ’, but he just lights up like a tacky Christmas tree or whatever, all smiles and whatnot, and then he’s out of there and Sirius is alone with Idris Elba, who is, let the record show, _really_ hot, but like. It’s just not the same.

 

 

 

 

Peters place is a fucking shit hole. And still, Sirius is back there, asking for advice, because _that’s_ what his fucking life has come to, apparently. Like, you would think that he was above taking advice from someone who lives in a wasteland with _rats_ and _fungus_ and _no kettle_ , and the only thing that stops him killing himself over the whole situation is how aghast his mother would be.

“Hey, you want anything?” Peter is like, “I have, um, well not much of anything, really. Beer?” He sounds slightly surprised at the sight of it, which would make sense because James and Sirius have made a habit of breaking into his flat and taking a few whenever they’re skint, which is, like, most of the time.

“Yeah, sure,” Sirius responds, texting James like _hey dude, u gonna be home 2nite?_ which he thinks sounds suitably flippant and not at all hysterical.

Peter comes back with two bottles and Sirius watches in silence for the longest two minutes of his _entire_ life as Peter tries to break them open at the edge of his coffee table.

“Dude, just like. Hand them over,” he says, prying of the caps against his teeth which is a really fucking impressive party trick, if he might say so himself.

“So, what’s this about, then?” Peter asks, “still pining over James?”

“I’m _not_ pining over James, I just think Evans is really fucking annoying and I wish she would drop off the face of the planet. _Also_ , I’m _not_ gay, and I wish you people would stop saying that because you’re like _really_ cramping my style.”

Peter is laughing, again, dribbling beer down his front, and Sirius wishes, also again, that he didn’t need to be here.

“Mate, sorry, but can you just stop with that, it’s getting, like, _really_ fucking tiresome. I mean honestly? You’re like the _poster child_ for catholic guilt.” And Sirius didn’t break James’ nose, which means that he hasn’t punched anyone in maybe like three days, which means he _really_ fucking wants to gauge Peters eyes out.

You can say a lot of things about Sirius, and a lot of things have been said, but what you _can’t_ claim is that he bites at the bait, so he’s just like “I’m _not_ a fucking child,” which he thinks is a pretty good comeback.

He reaches for the cigs that are lying at the middle of the table but Peter looks like he’s about to say something and Sirius fixes his gaze pointedly at him.

“It’s just, well, they’re kinda expensive, is all,” he says, and Sirius barks out a laugh.

“I _sincerely_ doubt that,” he’s like, lighting one. 

“Where the _fuck_ is Remus, anyways?” he asks, in an attempt to steer the conversation into safer territory, and he shouldn’t _really_ be surprised when it works, because this _is_ Peter, after all.

“Oh!” he exclaims, “like, I think it’s getting kinda serious with that girl, dude! You remember her? Weird-ish hair, kinda spiky and stuff? I can’t really remember what she’s called, but it was fucking weird as well. Crocs? Toms, maybe? _Not_ Converse, but it _was_ something fucking stupid.”

Sirius isn’t _really_ sure if Peter, of _all_ people, can get away with using ‘weird’ several times over when describing _anyone_ , but he can’t really afford to alienate his one remaining friend so he just smiles as if he has any clue as to who he is describing.

 

 

 

When Sirius gets home, James is waiting for him, and, like, not to be _dramatic_ or anything, but he’d kind of forgotten that he lived with someone, because he hasn’t seen James for entire _days_. He says this, and at least James has the good conscience to look _slightly_ ashamed.

“Yeah, sorry about that dude. Where were _you_ , by the way? Hot date? I tried texting you back.”

“Oh yeah, sorry, my phone died and stuff. I had to, like, actually _look_ at people on the tube or whatever. And _no_ , I was at _Peters_.” Sirius scrunches up his nose in an expression that’s effectively appropriate for all scenarios.

“Oh,” James says, and then “gross.” He looks almost compassionate.

“Yeah.”

“So, _not_ a hot date, then? Just to be _perfectly_ clear?” And it’s just such a bizarre and frankly _revolting_ idea that Sirius can’t stop himself from dissolving into a laughing fit even though he’s still fucking _pissed_ at James, but it just feels nice to go back to normal, maybe, for just a moment. And then, of course, James fucking breaks the mood.

“But, like, while we’re on the topic of hot dates I need you to, like, totally help me out, dude. Lily’s birthday is coming up, right? And I need to _really_ impress her because, like, she totally has her shit together and I do _not_ , so. I need her to not figure that out, basically,” he says, raking his fingers through his hair, and keying James’ stupid car into oblivion reclaims its top spot of Sirius’ to-do list.

“Like, I was thinking? That maybe? I should propose?” he continues, and Sirius’ heart misses a beat, and then two, three, four more beats in quick succession and he’s kind of afraid that he’ll perish right there one their gross wall-to-wall carpet. But then it starts up again because it’s a heart, and pumping blood throughout his body is sort of all it’s ever known, and he wishes that he had taken the easy out when it was presented to him. _Really_ , though, his reaction does _not_ have everything to do with jealousy because it’s a fucking _stupid_ plan, and James sounds kind of like a madman.

“ _What_? Dude, you can’t _propose_? You’ve been seeing each other for, what, less than two months? That would be _insane_ , buddy!”

“Yeah? Yeah, it would be, like, fucking _crazy_ , wouldn’t it? I told you dude, I’m in at the deep end here, I don’t know what the _fuck_ I’m doing.”

“Yeah, well, _no shit_.” And James breaks into a smile, and Sirius goes to sit down on the couch beside him, slinging a pseudo-casual arm around his shoulders and he would never admit it, but for the first time in _ages_ he’s kind of breathing again, however lame that may be.

“Shit, what would I have done without you, man?” James mumbles as he leans his head into the crook of Sirius’ arm, and Sirius wonders how long it will take before it’s all fucked up again.  

 

 

 

This is not a stakeout. Sirius is just going for a walk and he just _happens_ to stumble across Lily’s workplace, which is this stupid fucking glass-front office with chic interior and exposed brick and the works, and it all feels very adult and put together and fake. Sirius wonders, idly, what the fuck James has done to attract Lily considering that _she_ works _here_ and that _he_ recently had done a fuckload of tequila shots, ran into a wall and needed stitches. Turns out that stitches are _not_ badass, but just ugly as hell. Sirius thinks that, really, he _should_ be excused for almost walking into Lily, because, like. He’s _obviously_ about to crack one of the great mysteries of life. Lily, evidently, thinks differently, because her smile is all sharp canines, and maybe Sirius is going insane, because he remembers her as _really_ fucking boring, but, like, _nice_ , probably. Her eyes, as she stares past her cigarette and at him, are _not_ nice.

“Sirius!” she says, slings her free arm around his neck and pulls him into an awkward hug. And, like, Sirius used to do drama in middle school before he was informed that it was ‘gay as fuck, you fucking fag’, so like. Two can play this game.

“Evans! Wow, long time, no see dude! Looking good!”

“Yeah, I guess,” she’s like, “look, I’m sorry for, like, I don’t know, _stealing_ James, or whatever.” She laughs, looking perfectly unapologetic. Sirius smiles pleasantly at her.

“Don’t even _start_ to worry about it, I’m just glad to have him out of my hair to be _perfectly_ honest. He’s quite a handful, isn’t he?”

“Good point,” she laughs, “look, I’ve kind of got to get in their again, but I’ll probably see you round, yeah?”

He nods, and they smile at each other as she makes her way in, and he doesn’t _really_ care that she’s full of shit because at least he’s gotten it confirmed that she’s still an eight while he’s still a solid nine point five, which _was_ all he needed, really.

 

 

 

So it turns out that James had somehow convinced Lily that he was a functioning adult who, like, paid _taxes_ and stuff, and in some amazing feat he managed to keep it up for several  months until he showed up drunk out of his mind to like _a lot_ of brunch dates in a row, at which point she dropped him like a hot potato. And, like, not to _victim blame_ or anything, but Sirius kind of feels like she should have suspected it from the beginning, because, like. _Anyone_ could take literally _one_ look at James and see that he’s a hot mess.

James, of course, because he has like _zero_ self-insight, is convinced that it was something  _Sirius_ did that was the last straw, which, frankly? Rude. Also totally unjustified and uncalled for.

So James comes home one day, and Sirius hasn't seen him angry in  _ages_ because he's been too busy being lovesick and stupid, so, like. He's kind of excited, and he's not going to throw away the opportunity to _finally_ have some feelings directed at himself. 

"Yo mate," he's like, "she finally broke up with you?" And he's not sure when James stopped being able to take a fucking  _joke_ , but it must have happened at  _some_ point, because he just, like, fucking  _lunges_ himself at him, and when Sirius expertly avoids his wrath because he's  _awesome_ at martial arts, James runs into his room and promptly starts  _crying_ , which, y'know. It's awkward. Like, all Sirius wanted was a shouting match, really. 

 And then they don't really talk for  _ages_ after that, to the extent that two people confined to a London shoebox apartment can not-talk, because James is  _much_ better at freezing out Sirius than he is at freezing out James, evidently, which is  _embarrassing._ And, like, sure, they share some drunken hook-ups, but the don't _really_ talk before or during or after those either, so the point, he guesses, still stands. Sirius does maybe  _millions_ of Hail Marys and spends a  _disturbing_ amount of time with Peter because Remus is still busy with Crocs or what the fuck, and James spends most of his time leaving desperate voicemails and crying, which Sirius thinks is a  _bit_ overkill, maybe.

He's about ready to move out on the street or whatever, because his needs are  _not_ being fulfilled, when James  _finally_ comes crawling to the cross with a copy of Pacific Rim, and like. It's about time, honestly, because considering that Sirius has claimed Peter they have like  _zero_ friends left between the two of them, and James would like  _never_ admit it, but  _everyone_ knows he thrives on attention. And, like, Sirius  _knows_ it's not the peace offering he deserves, but it  _is_ the one he is going to get, so, like, he just rolls his eyes and nods and gets the popcorn. It almost feels like old times, what, with James asking thousands of frankly  _idiotic_ questions and absentmindedly running his fingers through Sirius' hair, and, like.  _So what_ if he leans into the touch, because his internal monologue is just _nohomonohomonohomo_ over and over again, so, like, he  _thinks_ that the Big Guy Upstairs should cut him some slack, really. 


End file.
